Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.1 - Chapter 19

Tea Party with Dunkelfelger

“I am beyond pleased that you made it through the tea party without falling unconscious, milady, but simply writing that you had fun will not do. There is much you must report to Aub Ehrenfest before reading the books you have borrowed, is there not?”

Upon returning to the dormitory, my first instinct had been to delve into my stash of new books—which had earned me a few choice words from Rihyarda. I would have rather remembered only the enjoyable parts of our tea party, but apparently that wouldn’t fly.

“I will write the report in my hidden room.” I stood up with a sigh, then headed there as stated. I was also going to be writing to Ferdinand. The most important things to mention were the royal family asking me to be the High Bishop for Prince Sigiswald and Adolphine’s Starbind Ceremony and the Library Committee’s new job looking after the forbidden archive’s keys.

I wrote my letter to Ferdinand first, putting all of the most sensitive details in disappearing ink. At the end, I added, “They said they’ll let me read whatever’s in the locked archive after the librarian has checked over it. Eheheh.”

Next, while the disappearing ink on my first letter was drying, I penned my report to Sylvester. It was largely the same as my letter to Ferdinand, with the main difference being a small addition at the very end: “I asked the royal family to get your permission, so do all that you can to put them in your debt.”

By the time I was done, the disappearing ink on my first letter had dried. I wrote a bland message over it with normal ink, talking about the sweets at the tea party, the books I was lent, and so on. After some thought, I elected to avoid mentioning the books that I’d given out myself.

Ferdinand wouldn’t scold me about those anyway, right? Right.

I reread my letter to Ferdinand multiple times, then sealed it, picked up my report, and exited my hidden room with both papers in hand.

The day after our tea party for bookworms, plans for another tea party arrived from Dunkelfelger; it seemed their aub had granted them permission for the joint research. Brunhilde came with a letter of invitation.

“They are asking to hold the tea party in the morning two days from now,” she explained. “Furthermore, Lord Lestilaut is going to participate, so they have asked for Lord Wilfried to attend as well.”

Lestilaut would be present to discuss our joint research and the delivery of the hairpin he had ordered, but it would be awkward with him as the only boy. I turned to Wilfried, who was with me in the common room, and said, “You have no classes that day, correct? Will you be joining us?”

“I know just how awkward it is being the only boy at a tea party for girls, so... yes, I’ll be going. Not to mention, I need to help with this joint research too.”

Back in our first year, Wilfried had been forced to attend a bunch of tea parties for girls while I was in Ehrenfest for the Dedication Ritual. Remembering his awkward suffering from back then had made him sympathetic for Lestilaut’s plight.

“Furthermore,” Brunhilde continued, “Dunkelfelger’s knights seem highly interested in A Ditter Story. They are asking to borrow it.”

That was fine; we had been intending to show Dunkelfelger first anyway.

And so, I spent the run-up to our tea party deciding what sweets we would bring and other precise details with Wilfried and his attendants. I also took the apprentice scholars who would be doing the collaborative research to Gundolf’s lab to introduce them, then made my way to Hirschur’s lab to give Raimund my new letter for Ferdinand. I prompted him to encourage a fast response.

“I thank you ever so much for inviting us,” I said upon arriving at the tea party. Wilfried and our retainers were with me, as well as several scholars—more than we would usually bring with us, since we were going to be discussing our joint research project. Muriella was here too, even though she hadn’t given her name yet.

“Lord Wilfried. Lady Rozemyne. We’ve been waiting. Please come this way.”

Hannelore and Lestilaut welcomed us, and we exchanged lengthy greetings before taking our recommended seats. It just so happened that I could see Clarissa from where I was sitting. I glanced at Roderick and gave a curt nod, prompting him to give her Hartmut’s letter.

All we’re doing is communicating in the Royal Academy, but everything takes so much time. So many days have passed already, and I’m guessing it’s going to be even longer before Ferdinand gets back to me.

Lestilaut cleared his throat, then fixed me with a glare. “Now, might I see the hairpin I ordered?” Why was it that he seemed so annoyed...?

Hannelore gave an exasperated sigh. “Brother, I understand your enthusiasm, but you can at least wait for the tea party to begin.”

So his cocky, irritated attitude was actually his way of masking his anxiousness and impatience. I almost laughed out loud at this realization—though actually doing so would have been rude, so I tensed my stomach in an attempt to keep the laughter contained.

“Brunhilde, the hairpin,” I said. There was no harm in letting him see it now, especially when he was so unmistakably eager.

Brunhilde handed the box containing the hairpin to one of Lestilaut’s attendants, who checked it and its contents before passing it to their lord. The process was boring and tedious, but it needed to be done. I was intimately aware of the danger of poison.

Still, the process was a long one, and there was nothing for me to do, so I subtly watched Lestilaut. I was pretty sure that only those very close to him had deduced that his irritated, displeased attitude was just him being anxious. He had put on a noble smile without issue during our greetings, which was why his apparent displeasure was so noticeable.

Once he finally had the hairpin in hand, Lestilaut furrowed his brow and started investigating its every detail. He had ordered flowers to suit the divine colors of autumn. The main flower, which reminded me of a dahlia, started red at the center and gradually turned yellow toward the petals. It was surrounded by what looked like tea olives and decorated with round, colorful—and presumably autumnal—fruit.

The hairpin looked as though it had been made exactly according to the illustration, but would it meet the standards of the cultured and profoundly sharp-eyed Lestilaut? I watched him carefully... and soon enough, his stern expression gave way to a momentary flash of satisfaction.

“Hmph. It is not bad.”

“My brother means to say that he has found nothing to criticize,” Hannelore explained, but I could tell that Lestilaut was satisfied just by looking at him.

“The flowers and fruit you requested are not found in Ehrenfest, Lord Lestilaut, so the craftswoman who made your hairpin said it was a valuable learning experience,” I noted. “She also said that you have excellent taste.”

Lestilaut gave a short chuckle. “If she reproduced flowers and fruit she has never seen before, then she must be even better than I expected.” He then gave me a scrutinizing look that seemed to say, “I like your craftswoman, so give her to me.”

I smiled. “Your praise honors us. I take great pride in my craftswoman and entrust the creation of all my hairpins to her.”

And no matter how much you want Tuuli, she works for me. I’ll never give her to anyone.

Lestilaut was giving me his usual glare, which I took to mean that he found me “cheeky” or “cocky” for rebuffing him, but there were some things that I just wouldn’t budge on.

I decided to move our conversation along, maintaining the same pleasant smile. “As you are satisfied with the hairpin, let us move on to discussing Dunkelfelger’s history—”

“Hold on, Rozemyne,” Wilfried interjected. “You always prattle on forever once the topic turns to books. We should discuss the joint research first.”

I turned to look at Wilfried and saw that he was just setting down his cup. Hannelore must have taken her first sip while I was talking to Lestilaut, and now the both of them were enjoying their tea.

“We’ll need to discuss the history book eventually,” I protested. “It’s an important topic.”

“Sure, but you tend to lose sight of everything else when books are involved. We should save it for later.”

Unable to argue—Wilfried had more than enough evidence to prove that he was right—I resigned myself to talking about the joint research first. But I wanted tea and sweets before that. I picked up a Dunkelfelger pastry at Hannelore’s recommendation—a cream-covered galette with wine-soaked rohres—and took a bite. It had a rustic flavor that I just loved.

“You mentioned wanting to eat rohres in this manner before, did you not?” Hannelore asked me. She had evidently heard my mumbling about how I would make a sweet like this if we had access to rohres and jumped at the chance.

“I thank you ever so much for remembering a stray comment of mine.”

“So she really does like sweets of this manner...” Lestilaut said to himself. He had apparently been opposed to serving them, saying that they were ill-suited for a Royal Academy tea party. Hannelore had forged ahead anyway, though, arguing that she had prepared sweets that their guests would enjoy.

“Lady Hannelore, I can feel your kindness and consideration overflowing from this tea party,” I said. “It truly fills me with joy.”

Wilfried nodded in agreement. “I also like your duchy’s sweets more than the sugar-hardened ones served in the Sovereignty.”

“I am glad you both enjoy them,” Hannelore replied with a smile.

“Dunkelfelger’s food is made with the best ingredients,” Lestilaut added with a sniff. “So, how do you expect this joint research to develop? Our apprentice knights certainly have a high rate of receiving Angriff’s divine protection, but not everyone actually does.”

“We already have a hypothesis,” I explained. “We just need to ask you and your apprentice knights a few questions to help us prove it. For example, have you noticed a difference between pre-ritual students who performed poorly in their written lessons and regularly prayed to the gods during their practical lessons, and those who did well in their written lessons and passed immediately? Or between archnobles who had enough mana to fill the entire circle and laynobles who did not? I also wish to know which ceremonies are done and how often, among other things.”

At that, Lestilaut called over and then took something from one of his scholars. “My father has given me permission to show you the ceremonies we perform before and after ditter. However, there are two conditions. One, our duchies must play a serious match. There would be no need for the ceremonies otherwise, and, as we are praying to the gods for success, it is out of the question for us to not play at all.”

“The ceremony that Dunkelfelger archduke candidates perform is held after a match, and we can hardly offer up mana without doing anything first,” Hannelore added. I could tell that she was feeling concerned for us but also thought it obvious that a game of ditter needed to be played to justify the ceremonies.

Is this really happening?! I can’t believe we need to play ditter for joint research!

I could only blink in disbelief. Maybe I was naive for not having expected this—we were talking about Dunkelfelger, after all—but the possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“We are the ones who proposed this research,” Wilfried said. “For that reason, we have no choice but to accept.”

Upon hearing this, the Dunkelfelger apprentice knights in attendance all seemed to brighten up considerably. In stark contrast, I was hanging my head, dejected.

“We will not be able to play ditter until our apprentice knights and the apprentice scholars due to be involved in the joint research have finished enough of their classes,” Lestilaut noted. “Simple questions will suffice for the time being.”

“Professor Rauffen is quite enthusiastic about this joint research,” Hannelore added. “If you contact him by ordonnanz, he will invite you to the knight dormitory and answer any questions you may have.”

I nodded at them, then asked, “And the second condition?” I really couldn’t imagine anything more troublesome than having to play ditter, so I was ready for anything.

Lestilaut cleared his throat a second time. “You are to show us your ceremonies as well.”

“My ceremonies?”

“Yes. If one obtains divine protections through performing ceremonies at the temple, then you must have performed them as well, no? We ask that you include the ceremonies that blessed the Saint of Ehrenfest with such an abundance of divine protections in our research, and that you perform them before Hannelore and me.”

In other words: Dunkelfelger was going to publicize its historic ceremonies, so it was only natural that Ehrenfest do the same. I didn’t really mind that, but I also wasn’t sure what they wanted to see.

“The temple has many traditional ceremonies,” I said. “There are the baptism ceremony, the coming-of-age ceremony, and the Starbind Ceremony, to name a few. What exactly would you like to see? Blessings related to the milestones of one’s life require people to be blessed, and the rest are prayers for abundant harvests meant for farming towns. They are not well suited for the Royal Academy.”

“There is no need to go to such lengths. We simply wish to know the manner in which you pray.”

A ceremony that I can do in the Royal Academy, hm...?

The only one that came to mind was regenerating our gathering spot, but that wasn’t exactly something for me to be showing off. It was a tough decision.

“I shall think about which ceremony to show,” I said.

“You do that. I want to see you acting a bit more like a saint for once.”

“Brother!” Hannelore exclaimed. She glared at Lestilaut, but he merely turned his head away.

“Incidentally, can I ask that you select Clarissa as one of the apprentice scholars helping with our joint research?” I asked.

Clarissa started nodding over and over again, her eyes sparkling with delight. Lestilaut caught sight of this, then turned to me and said, “Why?”

“Our main reason is her existing connection to Ehrenfest, since she is engaged to my retainer Hartmut. Furthermore, I am confident she will take research that is due to improve the reputation of the temple very seriously. Reason being... Hartmut is now our High Priest.”

“What?!” Lestilaut shouted. “You mean to say he entered the temple?! What foul act did he commit?!” His reaction didn’t come as too much of a surprise—entering the temple was still considered a source of great shame among nobles—but the “foul act” part caught me a little off guard.

“Hartmut did nothing wrong. Rather, his new position is because of Ferdinand’s departure from Ehrenfest.”

Lestilaut’s face twisted in a way that indicated a complete lack of understanding. I would clearly need to elaborate.

“Prior to his departure, Ferdinand assisted me with my High Bishop work as the High Priest. However, as you know, he is being married into Ahrensbach. This left us without a High Priest until Hartmut was chosen to fill the role.”

“So, in Ehrenfest, one really can be sent to the temple and made High Priest without committing any misdeeds...” Lestilaut muttered. The nearby Dunkelfelger students appeared to be thinking the same thing.

“I cannot speak for the temple in a greater duchy such as yours,” Wilfried said, “but, embarrassingly enough, our own temple has very few blue priests. We do not have enough to fill our chalices, so we assigned Rozemyne and my uncle to be the High Bishop and High Priest, respectively. This was so that they could perform the ceremonies. Charlotte and I similarly participate in Spring Prayer and the Harvest Festival throughout our Central District. In other words, the temple is like a second home to us and the rest of our archducal family.”

“I see...” Lestilaut replied under his breath, still wearing a frown.

“I anticipate that society’s view of the temple will improve if we can show that the frequency, contents, and sincerity of one’s prayers has an effect on obtaining divine protections,” I said. “Thus, if Clarissa wishes to continue her engagement to Hartmut despite his new position, then I would appreciate her assistance.”

Lestilaut turned to Clarissa. “Well? What will you do? Your engagement can easily be canceled if you just express that Hartmut is a man who would join the temple despite already having a fiancée in another duchy.”

Clarissa vigorously shook her head in refusal, causing her long braid to swish from side to side. “I could never scorn his decision. I am proud that he would enter the temple without hesitation for his lady.” She then broke into a radiant smile that made her resemble Hartmut terribly. “In fact, had I been in Ehrenfest at the time, I would have battled him for the position of High Priest myself.”

I met this proclamation with wide eyes, not wanting it to be true.

“Lady Rozemyne, please allow me to work on this research,” Clarissa continued, a distinct glimmer in her blue eyes. She balled her hand into a determined fist, crushing her letter from Hartmut in the process. “These apologetic words are not even worth reading. No matter what my family says, I will charge down my own path and take him as my husband. And then, I shall witness the Saint of Ehrenfest perform her ceremonies with my very own eyes!”

It sounds like Clarissa is saying exactly what Hartmut would say in this situation... but surely I must be imagining things.

I swallowed my shock and looked at everyone else from Dunkelfelger. Not a single one of them looked surprised; in fact, they were acting like this was entirely normal for Clarissa.

Lestilaut rolled his eyes in a show of annoyance and said, “Ehrenfest will need to keep a firm grip on her reins. We refuse to take responsibility for her actions going forward.”

“Hold on just a moment. Isn’t she from Dunkelfelger?!” I cried, more or less pleading for them to reconsider.

Clarissa gave a shy smile, as if embarrassed about something. “I may still live in Dunkelfelger, Lady Rozemyne... but in my heart, I am already your loyal vassal through and through.” She pressed her hands against her cheeks and wiggled in her seat like a girl who had just confessed to her crush.

No matter how much I racked my brain, I had absolutely no idea how to respond to this. I turned to Brunhilde and Leonore for help, hoping that they could restore some semblance of order, but Brunhilde merely coughed and put on a fake smile. I could tell that she had wanted to say, “Oh, gods... Now there are two of them.”

Lestilaut waved a hand at me, seeming no less annoyed after Clarissa’s impassioned speech. “Go on, Rozemyne. Stop her already.”

Wait, what? You expect me to sort this out?! Even though she’s one of your duchy’s apprentice scholars?!

My eyes wandered the room; I was at a complete loss and desperate for someone to save me.

“He has a point,” Wilfried said. “If she is already your vassal at heart, then is the onus not on you?”

I frowned. Interrupting our tea party to have a one-on-one conversation with Clarissa felt rude to Hannelore and Lestilaut, who had invited us in the first place. But at the same time, they were the ones telling me to do something. I supposed there wasn’t much else I could do.

“May I have just a moment to speak with Clarissa, then?”

Hannelore gave Clarissa a troubled look, then turned to me and said, “My sincerest apologies, but we leave her to you, Lady Rozemyne. Any time she gets in this state, our voices seldom reach her...” Did that mean Clarissa was always giving such passionate speeches in the Dunkelfelger Dormitory? It was a scary thought.

I turned to Brunhilde. “Her gift, if you would.”

“Understood.”

We had with us a hairpin that Hartmut wanted us to give to Clarissa if she didn’t cancel their engagement. The other girls had informed us that it was best to give these things sooner rather than later so that the woman receiving the hairpin could decide on clothes and a hairstyle that would suit it best.

Our original plan had been to discreetly give Clarissa the hairpin after the tea party, but there seemed to be no end to her preaching in sight; at least by presenting her with it now we could ask her to return to her room to admire it there. She had been calm and quiet not too long ago, and this would restore the peace. That was what I was hoping for, anyway.

Brunhilde pulled back my chair so that I could stand up, and then I leisurely walked over to Clarissa. Her mouth stopped flapping when she saw me, and she immediately started focusing on my every move. The whole room had gone silent, and I could tell that all eyes were on us.

“Clarissa,” I said, extending a hand to her. She snapped back to reality and dropped to her knees at once. “I understand your feelings all too well. I am glad beyond words that you respect Hartmut’s decision to enter the temple and not run from his duty.”

“Lady Rozemyne...”

“Thus, I offer you this gift. If you still see Hartmut, the Ehrenfest High Priest, as your future husband, then please accept this hairpin from him. It is to be worn at your graduation ceremony.”

Clarissa accepted the box, tears welling in her eyes.

“However,” I continued, “I would ask that you return to your room to open it.” I made a point to look at Hannelore and Lestilaut, the latter of which immediately understood the meaning behind my gaze.

“Clarissa,” he said, “you may leave for today.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I should like to stay here until the very end—to burn Lady Rozemyne’s visage into mine eyes.”

“Then shut up and stand in the corner. You’re interrupting us.” He shooed Clarissa into the literal corner of the room, then sighed. It seemed that we had at last soothed the beast.

I gave a relieved sigh and returned to my seat.

“I see you have excellent control over her,” Lestilaut remarked.

“Unfortunately, I already have experience with her type. Um, if we have nothing else to discuss regarding the joint research, may we talk about the Dunkelfelger history book?”

“Indeed,” Hannelore said. “My brother and father are very much looking forward to the finished product.” She then smiled, prompting me to continue.

Wilfried turned to his lined-up scholars and called over Ignaz, who then handed an advance copy of the book to one of the Dunkelfelger apprentice scholars. After the usual checks, it ended up in Lestilaut’s hands.

Lestilaut began flipping through the book. He looked particularly stern, but that wasn’t much of a concern for us; our greatest priority was getting approval from Aub Dunkelfelger.

Wilfried turned away from Lestilaut, who was so focused on the book that he had probably blocked us out entirely, and instead spoke to Hannelore. “If all is well with the book, then we intend to sell others just like it. We shall await Aub Dunkelfelger’s response at the Archduke Conference.”

“Understood. I will tell the aub as much,” Hannelore replied, accepting the duty with a smile. She glanced at Lestilaut, who was still absorbed in the book, and ordered a second round of tea for us all.

As we sipped at our drinks, Hannelore told me more about the book. “Your modern translation has had a great impact on Dunkelfelger.”

“Oh my. Truly?” I asked. “In what way?”

“As you know, we study Yurgenschmidt history here in the Royal Academy, but we never delve into the finer details of our own duchies. As a result, it is quite common for a noble not of the archducal family to know very little of their own duchy’s history. This was the case in Dunkelfelger as well—that is, until the appearance of a certain history book. Your writing is so easy to read and understand that not just adults but even children have managed to learn from it.”

That’s news to me. I’d thought it was pretty common for nobles to know their history.

After going through my intense studying regimen with Ferdinand, I had come to assume that every noble knew their duchy’s history. In truth, however, this wasn’t the case.

Every archduke candidate was taught the history of their duchy, since such information was considered essential to their future. Those in branch families could similarly learn from their parents or grandparents, assuming they were archnobles, and children of the same age with close relationships to members of the archducal family—such as foster siblings—could simply be taught together.

“Furthermore,” Hannelore continued, “our duchy’s history stretches back so far, and our historical texts are by no means easy to understand. Children find it quite a struggle, as do those marrying into our archducal family from other duchies.”

“Has nobody else translated it all into modern language?” I asked. If reading the text was really such an issue, then surely they could have gotten a scholar of their own to translate it.

“Those in our archducal family have, but the text rarely survives. It is said to be our duty to preserve and pass on the old words.”

“That is a respectable attitude. If one does not focus and work hard to remember languages of old, then they risk being forgotten and abandoned. That is precisely why prayer rituals have survived and been passed down for so long.”

“Your praise honors us,” Hannelore said. She gave me a vague smile, then clapped her hands together as though she had suddenly remembered something. “Do you know that the king’s third wife is from Dunkelfelger? She praised your translation as truly wonderful, Lady Rozemyne, and she seems enthusiastic about buying it once it goes on sale.”

The king’s third wife is Prince Hildebrand’s mother, right? Dunkelfelger sure does have a strong connection to the royal family—though I guess that’s to be expected for a greater duchy. Having them publicize the book will do a lot more for sales than Ehrenfest ever could on its own.

“It is an honor for the royal family to have graced our book with their time,” I said. “If you find even the smallest detail that you would rather not be published, then please say so at once. We will see to its swift removal.”

Dunkelfelger had an incredibly long history; it seemed reasonable to assume that there were one or two parts that they would want to keep hidden from other duchies. I spoke out of consideration for the royal family themselves, but Lestilaut instantly looked up from his reading.

“What are you saying? I do not know how things are in Ehrenfest, but there is nothing in our history for us to hide or be ashamed of.”

I found that extremely hard to believe, but still—the fact that he made no attempt to hide anything even from royalty was pretty impressive, and his ability to make such a declaration so flatly was the mark of a good archduke candidate.

Lord Lestilaut may have the soul of an artist, but he’s still a true Dunkelfelgerian in every sense of the word.

As I nodded, feeling impressed, Wilfried stepped into our conversation. “So, how is the advance copy?” he asked Lestilaut.

“Not bad. I appreciate that there are illustrations at points, unlike in the previous version. It might have been even better if you had added color and made them more ornate, but as they were drawn in a style meant for black and white to begin with, it is not much of a problem.”

From there, all that Lestilaut did was praise the art. It was clear to see that he had actually been examining Wilma’s illustrations, not the text itself.

“It is the work of my personal artist,” I said. “Your praise honors me.”

“Your personal artist...? Does this person draw pictures of you, then?”

Lestilaut seemed fairly interested in Wilma’s art—an unsurprising development, considering that he was something of an artist himself. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer his question, though; I had only ever gone into Wilma’s room once, and that had been when it was overflowing with illustrations of Ferdinand. I felt like maybe I had seen a couple of myself in their midst.

“This was several years ago now, but I recall seeing an illustration she drew of me singing. There might have been one of me playing the harspiel as well, though I cannot quite remember. She is rather busy with the illustrations for our novels these days, so I can’t imagine she has the leeway to draw much else of me.”

“I see...” Lestilaut replied, his eyes wandering back down to the book in disappointment. Wilma really had piqued his interest with her illustrations—a fitting achievement for one of my attendants.

“Would you care to read A Ditter Story too?” I asked.

In an instant, the apprentice knights all started buzzing with excitement—perhaps for the same reason that Lestilaut was now wearing a harder expression.

“This first volume is centered around treasure-stealing ditter,” I continued. “Thus, I would very much like to hear the thoughts of those from Dunkelfelger.”

“You may count on us,” said every single Dunkelfelger student at once. And not just the knights either—the scholars and attendants too. It was clear just how deep their obsession with ditter ran. I didn’t even want to think about it.

“The author wrote this story while referencing Ferdinand’s notes on treasure-stealing ditter,” I noted, “but as our generation does not truly understand the game, it may be inaccurate at parts.”

I had personally reviewed the text and pointed out any mistakes and contradictions that I noticed, but I didn’t know what academy-wide treasure-stealing ditter was like, so my fact-checking was most likely imperfect.

If everyone hadn’t been so busy with Ferdinand’s engagement and the purge, then I could have gotten more people to check it as well...

Lestilaut accepted the book and then started looking through it. “Let’s see... Hm? Are there no illustrations for this one?”

Wilma was responsible for all the illustrations we needed in the Rozemyne Workshop, but there wasn’t a single one in A Ditter Story. This may have seemed unusual at first, but there was no helping it.

“My personal artist is a commoner,” I explained, “so she cannot draw illustrations for a book set in the Royal Academy about a game that only nobles play.”

Lestilaut nodded his understanding. “Only a noble would be able to draw such things.”

This was a pretty severe issue for us; stories were easy enough to gather, but artists were another matter entirely. I didn’t have a clue whom to speak to or what to do to get more.

“We would ask a noble with a knack for art to draw the illustrations for us, but Ehrenfest does not have any ideal candidates...” I said with a sigh, even making a note of my attempts to train new artists.

Lestilaut gave me a look of displeasure.

“Is something the matter?” I asked.

“Um, Lady Rozemyne,” Hannelore said timidly, “my brother is quite a talented artist.”

Somehow, I deduced that Lestilaut was offering himself as a candidate. “As far as I can tell from your hairpin design, Lord Lestilaut, you are very skilled indeed. If you were to draw the illustrations, then I am certain they would capture the attention of all those who see them.”

I really did think he was a splendid artist capable of producing very realistic pieces, and having a Dunkelfelger archduke candidate doing illustrations for us would do wonders for our marketing. No matter how much I wanted to welcome him aboard, however, he was an archduke candidate.

“That said,” I continued, “we cannot actually ask for your assistance. Good communication is necessary for endeavors such as this, but you are soon to graduate, and there will not be an easy way for you to come to Ehrenfest after leaving the Royal Academy.”

I could invite a laynoble or mednoble illustrator to Ehrenfest after their graduation, but an archduke candidate would only be able to leave their duchy through an engagement. And that certainly wasn’t in the cards for Lestilaut, the future Aub Dunkelfelger.

“A shame,” I concluded, hanging my head.

A look of extreme displeasure flashed across Lestilaut’s face, then he returned to the usual expression he wore while socializing. He was either greatly disappointed or immensely angry; I couldn’t tell which.

“Rozemyne,” Wilfried said, “could you not just get the illustrations from Lady Hannelore? That way, Lord Lestilaut could continue to provide drawings for us until we graduate. It shouldn’t take him too long to make what we need for A Ditter Story—and if we start publicizing his art, then it might become easier for us to find other artists too.”

Lestilaut’s head shot up at once. “That is not a bad idea.” His brow was furrowed, but there was an unmistakable sparkle in his red eyes.

He’s super into the idea! He’s frowning a little, sure, but this is definitely the face he makes when he’s excited.

“At the very least, we’ll need to consult the aub...”

“Is it any different from you buying stories? You’ll just be commissioning art instead.”

“Wilfried!” I exclaimed, calling out so frantically that my voice cracked. But it was too late; Lestilaut’s lips had already curved into a grin.

“Ehrenfest is already doing such things?” he asked. “Then my involvement will not cause any problems whatsoever.”

Gathering stories was a part-time job meant for laynobles without any money; it wasn’t something to be done by archduke candidates. I intended to buy art from mednobles and laynobles in the same way, so I didn’t really want Lestilaut getting involved.

“Um, Lady Rozemyne... could you please make your decision after seeing my brother’s art? We will need to see whether it matches the story being told,” Hannelore said. She then sighed, glanced at Lestilaut and Wilfried, and muttered, “There is no stopping him now.”

Indeed, the two boys were already flipping through A Ditter Story and discussing which scenes should have illustrations. I could see the attendants and guard knights standing behind Lestilaut straining to peer at the text as well. I could already imagine Sylvester crying out, “Hold on! Why is this happening?!” but things had already progressed too far. At this point, he had no choice but to roll with the punches.

Good luck, my dear adoptive father! It’s not my fault this time. And yay for you, Roderick! Your first reader from outside Ehrenfest is a member of the royal family, and your first artist is an archduke candidate from a greater duchy! I bet you’re glad you used a pen name, huh?!

“I request five illustrations per volume,” I said. “I cannot buy more.”

“Five, hm...? That sounds difficult,” Lestilaut said. He started flipping through the text again with a serious expression, reading out whatever scenes Wilfried suggested as someone who had already read the book.

As the two boys hyped themselves up, Hannelore and I exchanged looks and shrugged. “After seeing Lord Lestilaut’s interest in both the Dunkelfelger history book and this ditter story, I must conclude that both Dunkelfelger archduke candidates are bookworms,” I said.

“I-Indeed,” Hannelore added. “I, too, am having an excellent time reading Royal Academy Love Stories. Ohohoho...”

And so, we began discussing which scenes we liked the most. Hannelore told me how her heart had throbbed in the moments when characters fell in love—and it was through her gushing that I came to better understand Elvira’s divine symbolism.

So, Bluanfah the Goddess of Sprouts showing up means love has sprouted. Okay. Got it.

She showed up all the time in Elvira’s stories, so I had been wondering what the heck she symbolized. As it turned out, she represented the start of romance.

But is that actually right? I mean, sometimes Bluanfah appears, like, five times in one story. Are there other interpretations too?

Still feeling a bit confused, I nodded along to Hannelore’s talking until it occurred to me that Wilfried was shooting us curious looks. “Wilfried, is something wrong?” I asked.

“Nah. I was just thinking that Lady Hannelore sure reads into these stories.”

Hannelore and I stared at Wilfried with blank expressions, unsure what to say.

A small grin crept onto his face. “You read a bunch of new stories one after another, Rozemyne, but you never really say much about any of them. Hearing someone go into so much detail is new to me.”

I wouldn’t be able to discuss any of those books even if I wanted to! I don’t understand the descriptions enough to make any deep observations, and I can’t empathize with the stories!

Sure, I understood on a surface level that blooming flowers represented a romance heating up and an autumn breeze a love being lost, but that didn’t mean those stories resonated with me. I mean, think about it: the Goddesses of Autumn begin to dance, causing the protagonist’s hair to stir—at which point our leading lady promptly bursts into tears. In my case, instead of sympathizing and crying with her, I would just blink in confusion. Only after a few moments of consideration would I think, “Ah, right, the autumn wind. Her romance failed, and the love is gone. But why so suddenly? Were there signs that I missed...?”

I would need to reread most sections over and over again to properly understand them, which made a lot of my books feel more like mysteries to be solved than heart-wrenching romance stories. And whenever such books were discussed at tea parties, I would spend my time listening to find out whether my interpretations were correct. I never actually reached the point of empathizing with the protagonist.

“I enjoy hearing other people’s thoughts, especially when there are unique interpretations... but I always gravitate toward a new story over understanding one I’ve already read on a deeper level,” I said, making sure to emphasize that I didn’t have poor reading comprehension or anything. I was sure that reading a wider variety of content was a better way to adapt, anyway. I just needed more time to read.

It’ll be like how I learned to pray. Sooner or later, I’ll be able to empathize with love stories like it’s nothing, right? Absolutely.

“You truly do love books, Lady Rozemyne. Oh, that reminds me—I read a bit of The Story of Fernestine, which you lent me the other day...”

“You’ve started it already?” I asked. All my time spent going to and from laboratories meant that I had barely even touched my new books.

“Only the very beginning. Erm... is the protagonist perhaps based on you, Lady Rozemyne?”

“Hm? No, not at all. Fernestine is... someone else.” I was being deliberately evasive—naturally, I couldn’t reveal whom the character was actually based on. Still, I couldn’t understand why anyone would confuse me with a gender-swapped Ferdinand.

Hannelore blinked repeatedly. “Is that so? But there are many similarities between the two of you—the golden eyes, the long blue hair that flutters in the wind, having beauty and intelligence from a young age... You were both taken in by an aub too.”

Wow. If you focus on just those parts, then she really is like me!

It hadn’t occurred to me when I read the book myself, since I already knew the person it was based on, but... this was bad. I didn’t want people thinking that I was the basis for Elvira’s ideal woman—well, man.

“I was not taken in by an aub; I was adopted,” I hurriedly clarified. “I was baptized under my biological parents, and my adoptive family treats me well. Yes, my life was nothing like that of the true inspiration for this story, whose father’s first wife refused to stand as their mother during their baptism and attempted to assassinate them so frequently that they could not relax even when eating.” The last thing I wanted was for Florencia to be seen as the evil stepmother from the story.

“Rozemyne... do you mean to say this is a true story?” Lestilaut asked. “Is there someone in Ehrenfest who lived such a tragic and miserable life?” He shot a curious look at Wilfried, who shook his head in response and said that he knew no such person. Evidently, he was unaware that the story was based on Ferdinand suffering under Veronica.

“The story is not true in full,” I explained. “Names, characters, businesses, and events are all the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”

“Still... you know the person on whom the protagonist was based, Lady Rozemyne?” Hannelore asked. The doubt in her eyes had only grown stronger, and with both her and Lestilaut now scrutinizing me, I resigned myself to defeat.

“E-Er, well... Yes. But the author said that she mixed together several people for the character, so there is no single source of inspiration. One may simply think, ‘Ah, is this part based on this person?’”

“Is it truly not about you, Lady Rozemyne?” Hannelore asked. I could tell that she was worrying about me, so I gave my most reassuring nod.

“I am not being treated so horribly. Isn’t that right, Wilfried?”

“Right. Her blood brother is one of her guard knights. The people around her wouldn’t let this kind of treatment occur.”

“I see...” Hannelore heaved a sigh of relief, and the concern on her face was replaced with a bright smile. At first, I was simply pleased that she understood... but then it occurred to me that I would need to repeat this same explanation over and over again in the Royal Academy, and the blood quickly drained from my face.

I can’t believe I never noticed the similarities between Fernestine and me! Mother, hurry and make the next volume! Nobody will confuse me with your character once we get to the part where she starts a romance with the prince!

Thus concluded our tea party with Dunkelfelger, which had resulted in so many new developments for me to report back to Ehrenfest.